LYRA
"Zeviar," I whispered, my voice shaking. "What's happening to my sister?"
Before he could answer, Willow screamed again. Her back lifted off the floor, her body bending in a way she shouldn’t be. The sound of breaking bones filled the room, sharp enough to turn my stomach.
"No, no, no—" I tried to reach for her, but Zeviar caught my arm.
"Don't," he said firmly. "You can't touch her right now."
"She's dying!" I tried to break free from his grip. "Let me go!"
"She's not dying." His grip tightened. "Lyra, look at me." I couldn't. I couldn't look away from Willow writhing on the floor, her body contorting in ways that shouldn't be possible.
"Lyra." Zeviar's voice was sharp now. "Look. At. Me."
I finally tore my eyes away from Willow and met his eyes.
"She's not dying," he repeat
